


How It's Gonna Be

by Thistlerose



Category: Glee
Genre: Backstory, Father-Son Relationship, Ficlet, Gen, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-02
Updated: 2011-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burt knows what his son will say, but he figures he's gotta ask anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How It's Gonna Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lls_mutant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lls_mutant/gifts).



Burt knows what Kurt will say, but he figures he’s gotta ask. “Hey, pal. How about being a ghost this year?” He tries not to let the pleading note creep into his voice, tries to smile encouragingly as he holds the white sheet toward his six-year-old son. “I can cut some holes for eyes, maybe … I dunno … make some paper chains or something.”

Kurt looks up from his coloring book and frowns, his little nose wrinkling delicately. “But I want to be a cat,” he says.

He means one of the cats from that damn musical that was playing in Columbus a few months back. There were ads on the TV, and Kurt saw them and was transfixed. Since then, he’s been dancing around the house, warbling about memories with that sweet, high voice of his.

“Yeah, okay,” Burt says, nodding. Inwardly, he groans. How the hell is he gonna come up with a good cat costume? He has the feeling Kurt won’t be happy with just a pair of cardboard ears stuck to a headband.

“I want to be Mister Mistoffelees,” Kurt says seriously.

“You wanna be _who_?”

“Mister Mistoffelees,” Kurt says, annunciating each syllable, like he thinks his dad is hard of hearing or something.

“Kurt, I—”

“I’ll draw him for you.”

And all Burt can really do is watch while his son picks up a black crayon and starts to draw a figure in the margin of his coloring book and – oh, crap – those look like tights, and – aw, come on – are those leg warmers? Kurt drops the black crayon and reaches for the gold one, and it’s all Burt can do to stifle his groan.

 _Whatever,_ he tells himself as Kurt starts drawing spangles. _The kid’s only six. He should get to be what he wants to be. Aw, look at his face._

Burt may not like it, but he’ll do the best he can.

10/31/2011


End file.
